


Where We Begin

by notpmaHleM



Series: Its Only Love That We Are Falling In [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon compliant until 7x05, Cloak Smut, F/M, Light Angst, Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 16:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16580273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpmaHleM/pseuds/notpmaHleM
Summary: Jon leaves for Eastwatch and the slow road the recovering.





	Where We Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jalen_mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalen_mara/gifts).



> Thank you to aliciutza for letting me cajole her into beta-ing this so I could make this fic a surprise. My work is always a MESS and honestly I cannot believe people still let me send them my stuff. Seriously, thank you my dah-ling.
> 
> This little fic is for my dear friend [jalen_mara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalen_mara/pseuds/jalen_mara) who asked the very important question- How did Jon get his cloak back? And that started me on this writing endeavor. I love you my friend. I hope you enjoy this.
> 
> And to rest of you, the encouragers and enablers- you know who you are- THANK YOU, always for the support ❤️

 

_ Fix your eyes on all that’s real _ __  
_ It’s gonna pass don’t be afraid to feel _ __  
_ Don’t hold it in _ __  
_ And crawl inside this hope again _ _  
_ ___Open your eyes this is where we begin, oh_

__  
_ You’re tired, out of control _ __  
_ A broken heart a beating soul _ __  
_ You carry the weight of the world on your own _ __  
_ Just lose yourself inside my eyes _ __  
_ Release your pain to open skies _ __  
_ I’ll catch you when you’re ready to let go _   
**_You Are Not Alone by Lifehouse_ **  


 

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~_

_~~~~~~ **Jon** ~~~~~~_

 

He was in love with her.

This shouldn’t have been a startling revelation, Jon knew even before he sailed out of Dragonstone that his feelings ran deep, that the feel of her had etched itself into his bones, seeped into his pores. But yet, he had shied away from claiming that word and all its implications- the bastard turned King in love with the Targaryen Queen. It was hard to see any acceptance in it even if she seemed to return the affection.

So he had put it away and boarded the ship without a look back, their goodbyes bumbling and clumsy, the intimacy found in the dark lost in the light of day. Northern bound on a fool’s errand because he was not able to let the uneducated face the enemy alone. He had ignored Davos’ slighting prying comments, a knowing look on his advisor’s face and focused on what was to come, not allowing the space for what might be.

And then there was no room for wallowing in wants and hopes as death surrounded them as they sat and slowly froze. Waiting.

She had arrived suddenly and without warning, a beacon of light in their desperate moment of need, a shining savior on her fearsome winged knights, showing the power she possessed. And he was absolutely in love with her, unable to deny it as she rained fire over death, finally letting that word run through him, fill him up with its warmth even as he stared down the evil cold intent on killing them.

And then the Dragon Queen had lost. They all had stared in a morbid awe as a dragon fell from the sky with a shriek, crashing through the ice in a silence that froze the blood in his veins. Until he saw the muted horror on her face, the realization that she came to rescue them, save _him_ and _she_ had _lost_. It created a fury in him, anger making him forget about cold limbs, that something would dare hurt her like that.

Dying was not what he wanted but he would again for them if it was required, if it meant she would not. Not this day.

It hurt. Surviving hurt even if each stride of the horse took him back closer to the Wall, to her, the shock that he made it out alive barely even distinguishable from the burning of an icy pain. Fading in and out of consciousness he could hear the orders thrown by Davos, by Daenerys, the desperation coloring her tone as he was finally pulled into the dark.

Opening his eyes again took effort, but his reward was Daenerys coming into focus, his sluggish heart making a resounding effort at seeing her silver hair in the muted light of the cabin, the sea swaying under them. Then he had seen her falter, the agony ripping another hole into him.

_The dragons are my children, the only children I’ll ever have. Do you understand?_

She had delivered that to him in a trembling voice, eyes wet and shiny with tears, holding herself together by the tips of her fingers. Hand tucked securely in his as she refused to break completely. His brave savior. _His Queen._ And he tried to give something to her, a small peek at the words kept locked tightly in his chest.

And then she ran.

The pain was stunning, weighing him down with confusion and self doubt. He could remember clearly another night, of asking her not to do that, to stay unguarded and open, the scent of her soft skin imbedded inside of him. This time was different, she had lost one of her children to save him and the guilt of it crawled into his marrow, chewing away from the inside, the implication of her words settling deep.

So he had wallowed in the bed on her ship, an aching loss settling over him as they put out to sea in the direction of Dragonstone, the loss of the tender and blossoming romance making him want to curl into himself and lick his wounds. Davos had regarded him silently for a uncomfortable amount of time, making Jon squirm like a naughty child, before informing him that she’d sat with him from the moment they’d brought him on board until he woke. That she still hovered around the door of his room as if trying to seem like she did not want to be in there. That she had stood broken heartedly on top of the Wall despite everyone telling her that he was most likely lost.

It filled him with bewilderment, that even after he’d spent a sleepless and wonderful night tangled up in everything that was Daenerys Targaryen, she waited for him. That even in her grief over Viserion, she had enough to spare for him. Maybe she would come back.

Adjusting the covers, Jon tried closing his eyes and let the rocking of the ship lull him to sleep. He was exhausted, body still rebelling at his frigid dip and frozen ride, but his thoughts were spinning, filled with her, wanting to request her presence, draw her in close to reassure, to distract her from the horror of loss, to try and give her a few moments of relief. But he couldn’t push at her, not this time.

He did not need his patience as long as he thought he might as she returned after the ship had settled for the night, small feet moving quietly into his cabin, the creak of the door giving her away. Not making a sound, he waited, letting the choice be made with no encouragement. When she crossed the room his breath caught in his throat, releasing with relief when she stopped at his bedside. The fire and steel aura that usually encompassed her was showing some wear, cracked and frayed at the edges. He didn’t give her words, none were needed, instead Jon scooted over slightly and pulled the covers back.

Relief was written on her face, the softness of vulnerability and keeping her eyes locked with his, she slipped off her outer layers and trousers then crawled into bed, the thin shift doing nothing to mute the heat of her skin. It seeped into his cold body and he sighed, her soft skin a balm to his tender heart. She burrowed in closer, his fingers seeking out her hair to tangle in, to anchor her there in a desperate attempt to never let her go.

The excursion had drained him, want and lust only a slight burn, the need for comfort, intimacy, drowning out any other need. Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, he filled his lungs with the scent of her, the feeling of dainty fingers trailing along his scars, he finally gave in and let sleep pull him under.

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_~~~~~~ **Daenerys** ~~~~~~_

 

 

It was a hopeless, messy tangle of love and lust she found herself in, even if she was wounded, battered and bruised from loss.

She’d spent every night of the ship’s journey south curled up in Jon embrace. It was there that she found herself feeling safe, warm, _loved_ , though she had not spoken it. But it sat there ready and had been since before he left, only her own uncertainty making her hold back.

So, instead, she sought comfort in the strength of the arms that wrapped around her, locking tightly as if he knew she was close to breaking apart, shattering like the ice of a frozen lake. Roughened hands carefully stroked along her hair, fingers weaving into the tendrils to soothe them both, learning the notches of her spine while she traced his scars to memory.

There was a dragon-sized hole in her heart, the pain a steady hum in her veins. Being a Queen meant she could not show some things, aches and bruises and emotions must be kept back from everyone who would misinterpret it, call her soft, unfit to lead.

The dark of night let her grieve, Jon holding her tightly, too weary from coming back from the brink of the dead to judge her for her softness. Not that he would, she knew that just as she knew he blamed a part of himself for the fate of Viserion.

_Viserion_

Even his name caused the anguish to close off her throat, eyes red and burning from endless crying. Jon would just gather her closer to him, impossibly close, skin melting into skin and let her fall apart, never minding the tears soaking into him.

Every morning she’d steal out of his cabin, a thief in the night, ignoring the hurt in his eyes as result of the secrecy. They didn’t speak of it, what was between them and she was to much a coward to approach it. Instead she kept an aching heart, hoping to grasp onto courage to give them both respite.

 

**~*~*~**

 

She was standing on deck, shivering from her tepid water bath, the heartbreaking cries of Rhaegal, the low angry sounds of a Drogon filling the air. Taking a deep breath of the salty air, she measured her wounds, discovering that she felt slightly more put back together than she had for days. That was Jon’s doing she knew, felt it deep within, the endless amounts of give he was providing while not asking for more was sending her down the path of healing even if at a slow pace.

“It’s good to see you above deck, Your Grace.” The accent of Ser Davos led the way, Jon’s advisor weaving through the deckhands, moving easily with the sway of the ship.

“I felt the need for fresh air.”

“I’m hoping to convince His Grace to come up for that also.” Davos settled in beside her, arms braced on the railing. “But then I thought if it were you to ask, he wouldn’t refuse.”

The words caught her by surprise, her mask slipping for a moment, but long enough for Ser Davos to give her a wry grin of knowledge. She was surprised at the possessive flash that almost made her bare her teeth in defense, ready to warn off anyone who might try and come between her and Jon.

“If you’re wanting to hide it, you two will have to come up with a better plan. You’re both shit at it.”

With his rough words, Daenerys felt the corner of her lips curl up. “Whatever do you mean, Ser Davos?”

He made a low noise in his throat before he shook his head, muttering something about foolish youth. A scrape of a boot interrupted them and she felt her skin warm in response, a knowing that Jon was right behind them.

He was freshly scrubbed, hair pulled back enough to see his features, the woman inside of her sighing longingly at the pleasing sight. Hoping her face was giving nothing away, she turned back to the sea, Drogon and Rhaegal disappearing into the clouds. “It seems, Ser Davos, that the King in the North has decided not to laze away in bed all day.”

“Good to see you on your feet, lad.”

With a huff of amusement Jon settled into the railing beside her and the urge to lean into him, draw the heat of his body into hers, was a battle that caused her to dig her fingertips into the wood to hold herself still.

“Weren’t you fussing about me not wanting to stay _in_ bed, just recently, Ser Davos.”

“You were more ice than man at the time.” Ser Davos turned to look at the both of them and Daenerys kept her eyes out to the rolling water, least he see the heat rising up in her cheeks, the longing in her eyes for the man beside her. Since Jon Snow, she found it a more difficult task to keep a blanket on her emotions. An impossible task.

Ser Davos took pity on them, the pair of love sick fools that they were, and made an excuse about seeing the captain, leaving them behind in a thick silence of unsettledness. She was not sure what to say without the secrecy of the dark to shield her. In the sun she was sure he would be able to see right through to the middle of her, see where the web of love and fear resided.

“Where do they go?”

The sound of his rough voice flooded her body with relief, tension draining with such quickness she wanted to lean into the solidness of his body to keep upright. Instead she looked up to the sky where Drogon and Rhaegal had disappeared.

“On the voyage over, they fished and played.” The strain of the memory crept back into her voice. “Now they are trying to see if they can find their brother.” The sorrow cracked her words and she squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of tears.

“I’m sorry.” There was horror in his voice, that his innocent question had brought the anguish back up, the guilt written in the wrinkle of his brow. “I shouldn’t have-“

“Jon, don’t.” His name just fell so easily from her mouth, propriety impossible to remember. Which was a part of the dilemma she faced. Jon Snow made her forget all the rules, made her want to be reckless, made her long for things that should be set aside.

Wanting to reach out and touch him, reassure them both, she turned away with an aching heart, forcing herself to walk away from him until she could gather her composure, turn herself back into the cold queen everyone thought she was.

 

**~*~*~**

 

The ship’s occupants finally settled in for the night, leaving Daenerys restless, craving the feel of skin against hers, wanting to bury her nose into Jon’s neck and breathe him in. It had been a long day of foolish avoidance, running every time she heard his voice, but the black of night offered her a chance to go to him and right the unbalance.

He was already in bed when she slipped in, the relief sweet on her tongue when she found the door unlocked. She had been worried, terrified that he would have decided he’d had enough and barred her away.

Instead, dark eyes watched her as she crossed to the lone chair in the cabin, silence filling the air between them as she started slipping out of the borrowed trousers. There was a wariness mixed with the hopefulness on his face and the acute awareness that she had put it there. She hated it.

The covers were pulled back, revealing a lean line of flesh, sparking the tinder inside of her to a fire, growing even hotter as he wordlessly gathered her up, nose burying in her hair, palms spreading wide on her back.

He just kept giving and giving and giving.

“Jon.” It was a sigh spoken into his neck until she pulled her head up to look at him, see him staring up at her, eyes coal black. She shifted to her knees, pulling the tunic over her head and let it fall to the floor, revealing skin to him, butterflies dancing behind her ribs as his hands smoothed over them, thumbs brushing up the side of her breasts.

“I’m not expectin’ this.”

Her heart did a slow sluggish roll, warmth flooding at his words that were a contradiction to his body’s reaction to her silent offer. She knew he was sincere, that she could settle back into his side and into this pattern they had found themselves in and not need to speak a word about it. But she wanted more than just the comfort of being tucked into a bed with him. The taste she’d had of him on Dragonstone had only whetted her appetite and now she just wanted to empty her mind and fill it with the feeling of him instead.

Catching his hands she slid them around to her breasts, moaning as he squeezed, thumbs flicking her nipples. “I want this.” It was a confirmation as she shuffled to straddle him, the leanness of his hips caught between her thighs.

Before she could lean down, he sat up, a hand sliding down possessively to grasp her arse, the other gathering the hair at the base of her skull to hold her still as he parted her lips with his.

She was greedy, her tongue reaching out with no hesitation, a satisfied moan as it slid along his, lush lips pressing to hers, a suck, a bite as she wriggled, grinding herself against him. He was hard, nestled in her cleft, tantalizingly close to where she needed him, where she was empty and aching, where he could fill up the emptiness inside of her.

Hands molded over his back, the ropes and cords of muscle and sinew flexing under her touch, nails dragging in the urge to mark him, brand him as hers. Her head was dizzy with his kisses, the slow exploration that pushed everything out but him taking over. She was wet and impatient, needing his mouth everywhere, not having enough patience for that.

A soft cry came from her as thick fingers slid between her cheeks, down farther to probe where she was already swollen and ripe and ready. A slow roll on his lower abdomen for pressure, fire feeding through her, teeth nipping at his neck as she lifted up, intent on having him snug inside of her.

Strong arms banded tightly around her and she was flipped, pressed down into the mattress, Jon on his knees between her thighs. His weight anchored her, his touch, his scent taking up the space inside of her as his cock pulled her open. With his mouth on hers, hips rutting into her, she was completely filled, no room for anything else except him.

A whispered _Daenerys_ was against her lips, their hands laced together and held above her head. She writhed underneath him, needing everything he was giving her in hard lunges, knees tucked up along his ribs, pleasure blossoming in waves.

They took from each other, the harsh sounds of mingled breaths filling the room of the cabin, her little moans, his deeper grunts as he ground his hips to hers. She needed this, needed _him,_ the closeness as much as the ecstasy he was wringing from her, his cock filling her again and again, his chest scraping over her, mouth plundering.

It was too much and she broke apart with a wail, fingers clenching in his, safe beneath him as she splintered and cracked apart, put back together by the soft words in her ear, rough thrusts that would bruise. She was still shuddering when he reached his own end, hiding his face into her neck while he rode out the wave of bliss.

Tears were stinging the back of her eyelids, exhaustion settling over her worn body, love for Jon mixing with her heartbreak, a resounding ache settling in her chest. He rolled his weight off of her, taking her to her side where he cradled her face, gave her a soft kiss, both of them still heaving for air.

The dark orbs of his eyes spoke the truth neither one was ready yet to utter. Still, she smoothed her hand over his cheek, scratching through his beard, letting him see the reflection of it in her own eyes.

Finally with a sigh, she let herself be drawn into his chest, his nose at the back of her neck, knowing that in his arms, he’d keep her from drowning in the sea of despair.

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_~~~~~~ **Jon** ~~~~~~_

 

Daenerys was sprawled out on her stomach in his bed, silver hair a mass of tangles, the air in his chest getting stuck at the sight of it. It was something he wanted to get used to, wanted to see her in that spot morning after morning after morning. Noting the light in the sky, he realized they’d slept later than usual, the night’s activities layered with the weariness that had been following them around since Eastwatch, had taken its toll.

He had just slipped into his trousers, laces still undone when there was a soft knock, a hushed whisper from Davos to let him in. Jon faltered for a moment, looking back over to the Queen, surprise mingling with anger as the door opened and Davos slipped in.

“Forgive me Your Grace.” His eyes never shifted to the bed. “But Ser Jorah is looking for the Queen and getting rather riled as he doesn’t find her.”

“Thank you Davos.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, the myriad of emotions twisting through him, frustration at the need to keep this quiet sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach.

Moving the few short steps to the bed, he sat on the edge, a finger trailing up her spine as he softly called her name. She roused slowly, blue eyes blurry, arching into his touch as she quietly grumbled.

When she made it to her elbows, lovely breasts now bared and enticing, he fought against the surge of lust, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “It’s late.”

She flopped to her back with a pout, eyebrow raising at his state of undress and his inability to look away from rounded flesh, dusky pink nipples pebbling in the cold. “Come back to bed, Jon.”

The husk of her voice went straight to his cock, the hand sliding down his abdomen making him forget anything else but her touch. He leaned over, hands braced beside her head, fully intent on ravaging her plush lips when heavy footfalls startled him back into remembrance.

“Ser Jorah is looking for you.” Hissing as her hand wrapped around him. “Rather impatiently.” The loss of her hand almost made him whimper, the ache to be buried inside of her, now raging through his body.

“I best be off then.” She slid out of bed, offering him a wonderful view of bare skin and a round arse.

“I must ask.” He willed himself to keep his mouth shut as she paused, looking over her shoulder at him.”What are we doin’ here? Am I to be your secret then? A lover kept hidden?” He hated the way his voice sounded, raw and injured, exposing his weaknesses.

“No.” Her tone was firm, the type that encouraged no questions. “If you were merely a lover, I would have no qualms about sharing this.” She crept closer, a small hand landing on his cheek, fingers sliding through his beard. “You are more than that to me, Jon Snow, and we need to discuss the best time to inform our council of this _alliance_.”

The smile on her face warmed the cold spot inside of him, her mouth against his dulcifying the wound even more. He molliefied himself further by watching her dress, helping with laces to hurry her along, pressing one last kiss to her sweet mouth before she ducked out the door.

 

**~*~*~**

 

She was standing in the meager sunlight, so bright and brilliant in the surrounding grey that it almost hurt his eyes to look at her. He wanted to stare and admire, worship in any way she’d let him. The urge was there to go to her, settle in at her side as she frowned at Ser Jorah, but he resisted, instead took a spot on the railing next to Davos.

“If you are trying for discretion, you are failing miserably.”

Jon tried not to react to his adviser’s words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

The older man snorted. ”Her Grace had a similar answer when I mentioned it to her just yesterday.” He paused for a moment. “My cabin is right next to yours.”

He felt the blood drain from his face, thinking of what she had sounded like, coming apart beneath him, the fingers on the railing tightened to keep himself steady.

“Have you spoken of what comes next after all this?”

 _After this_ was a dream he was trying to not reach for, did not want to give himself false hope to the promise of more. She might have faith there would be an after and he wanted it, by the Gods he did, but he couldn’t think of it. Not yet.

“If there is an after, we’ll address it then.” He could feel the disappointment from Davos settling over his skin like a thin layer of fog. Gritting his teeth, he staved it off, holding it away at arm’s length, the need to protect himself still too great.

“Don’t miss opportunities because you are afraid. Take what joy you can get, lad.” With the parting words of wisdom, Davos strode off neatly intercepting Ser Jorah as the man tried to follow Daenerys.

She wore a stormy look on her face, the apparent talk not leaving her pleased. To Jon’s surprise, she did not look back, approaching him with no hesitation and arriving at his side with a huff. He gave a stoney glare to the curious eyes, ignored the itch to settle her under his arm and instead, turned back to the rolling sea.

“Ser Jorah believes I should fly back to Dragonstone.”

“Should you?” He allowed himself the luxury of turning towards her, drinking in the sight of her profile as he tried to see the wisdom of the other man’s words.

“No.” She looked at him, eyes wide and giving. Almost giving him everything. “I should not.”

The tightness in his chest lessened, air coming back into his lungs, the realization that he was so far gone on her was almost terrifying. They were headed into the impossible, a dead end of a battle most would not survive and he just wanted to spend his last moments wrapped up in her. The balance between love and duty was a line he intended to walk for as long as she wanted him.

“We need to inform everyone that the North has bent the knee.” It was a fumble of words, masking what he wanted to say, the need to fall at her feet and profess his love almost overwhelming.

“We will not.” Her short tone was accompanied with a softness in the blue of her eyes. “Not yet. You are still very much the King in the North.”

There was a call to her and she offered him a gentle smile, her hand brushing his as she turned to leave and Jon found himself rooted to the spot, once again caught by surprise from Daenerys Targaryen.

 

**~*~*~**

 

It was colder on Dragonstone than it had been when he left, the winter chill of the air now a constant companion, even in the South. The imposing stone did not hold much warmth unless huddled around a fire and Daenerys’ armies were busy preparing more suitable clothing while ready to march out for King’s Landing.

They gathered around her council table, planning and looking for options, Jon trying to remain stoic, as if he did not have the privilege of knowing what the Queen was like in the most intimate of moments. Instead he distracted himself by watching her advisors, measuring their cunning and war knowledge, offer input when asked, strategizing with the Unsullied Captain on where the armies should be stationed.

It was all planned, fine details pounded out, secondary options in place and Jon was tired by the time they all started to disperse. He wanted to approach Daenerys, draw her in close and feel the heat of her skin, let her soft scent soothe his edges. But he remained withdrawn, turning only to Davos, needing to finish their own preparations.

“Everything has been packed Your Grace.”

Jon felt amusement at the man’s stubborn refusal to call him by anything else.

“And everything you requested has been left out, except your cloak. Apparently that is nowhere to be found.”

There was a surge of lust that flowed through him, settling in his groin, the image of her standing on the cliffs wrapped up in his missing cloak almost making his wits scatter. Risking a glance at Daenerys, he found her standing in front of the open window, appearing to be listening to her Hand, until she lifted her chin, giving him a sly smile that caused him to cough in order to hide his wheeze. “I believe I might know where to find it.”

He had a cloak to retrieve.

 

**~*~*~**

 

The last time he walked to her room, the castle was mostly empty, his trepidation had led the way and then, well, if he had known she had been pleasuring herself to the thought of him, then he never would have turned away that night.

Anticipation thrummed through him as he raised a fist to give a quick but solid knock under the Targaryen symbol. Maybe he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up, there were still many things that needed the Queen’s attention besides himself. Her voice gave him muffled permission to answer instead of being greeted by Missandei, like he assumed. With a quick glance around to look for spying eyes, he let himself in.

She was standing in front of the window, long hair loose and shining like stars against the dark of his cloak. He felt poleaxed, dizzy with her dazzling smile fixed on him as she turned around, wrapped up in something of his.

“Yes, Jon Snow?”

Words were failing him, tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth as he walked forward, stopping halfway across the room, hands itching to grab her, using all the self control he could muster to keep them at his side. She wanted to tease, to distract them both from the pending parley and its results, an approach he would readily agree to.

“Are you looking for this?” She closed the distance, small hands letting go of the edges of the cloak to put her hands on his chest, fires being lit under her touch.

As she raised her hands, the cloak fell open, revealing an expanse of skin, nipples drawn up tight in the cool air, a smooth pale belly sloping down. _Gods, she was naked_. The surge of possessiveness came out as a growl, his hands moving on their own accord, sliding around her hip and yanking her forward.

She was ready, going up on her toes as he crashed their mouths together, a wet fusion, unable to give her soft and gentle, need winding through him with her whimper, her tongue licking along his as they stumbled, tripped towards her bed.

He took her down in one movement, a tangle of limbs as she pulled impatiently at his tunic, scratching wildly in attempt to rid him of it. He paused, leaving her flushed and wild eyed beneath him, cock at ready as he shucked the offending clothing, letting her tear at the laces on his trouser, a grunt as she made it through, warm hand wrapping around him.

Catching that dangerously wonderful hand he pulled it away, pulse racing as he locked eyes with her and licked a wet stripe across her palm. She groaned, eyelashes fluttering before dropping her hand, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist as she tested the slipperiness against him. Hissing through his teeth, pleasure rushing through him as she stroked steadily, he let go to brace himself on the bed above her, biting his lip to provide a balance to the overwhelming sensation of her hand on his cock.

It provided to be too much, his eyes rolling back before he freed himself, breathing heavily through his nose to steady himself. Hooking a finger under the strap of his cloak, he tugged to see the skin underneath, the urge to mark and take as strong as the urge to pay his reverence to her body.

Fingers threaded through his hair, the tie loosening under the strain and he was tugged back down to her mouth, curls cascading down around them as he lost all sense of time with her thorough exploration. The thrill of _her_ was tightly wrapped in his love, hands tangling in the ends of her hair as he tried to show her how he felt with carefully placed kisses.

Pulling away with the need for more, he nipped sharply under her chin, properly giving attention to the slim neck, hands squeezing ample flesh before his mouth followed them down. She was fire, hot and spicy as he tugged sharply, teeth and lips at a pebbled nipple, her chest arching to offer more as hands held him steady, her hips starting to writhe with the sensations. Shifting a thigh, he made contact with her wet core, his cock giving a throb of demand in need of being snug inside of her.

Hands pulled ruthlessly at his hair as he switched to the other breast, needing to give the same treatment, his tongue soothing strokes over his bites. Wanton cries encouraged him, the slow grinding against him increasing the ardor. With a hum of encouragement and approval, he moved down the expanse of milky skin, savoring the journey, hands sliding down to squeeze her lovely arse, a nip above her furred mound. She was voicing her impatience as he took his time, maneuvering between those sweet thighs to expose the lush offering between them.

The scent of her filled his nose, making him ravenous, ready to gorge on tender flesh. He paused, bumped her with his nose to hear a curse in another language before praising her for being so wet and ready by giving a long lick up her center. And then he ate, a starving wolf at dinner, no mercy as he suckled and laved, an arm thrown over her hips to hold them still while toes curled into his back. Slipping three fingers into her welcoming cunt made her wail, his appetite increasing along with the pressure in his loins, teeth dragging, a need to have her break around him.

She did, a long drawn out cry of his name, slender fingers almost ripping out his hair as she bowed up, tight walls clamping around rubbing fingers in a squelch of wet, the taste of her addicting as she let go of everything for him.

Exposed and undone she panted above him as he petted and fondled, admiring the pale of her thighs against dark material while trying to rein in his demanding need. He ached for her, the tight and wet space between her thighs, how she would hold his gaze while he was locked inside of her, of the way she called his name with no reservations. Slowly he made his way back up, nipping at the soft flesh under her breast, the grip in his hair tightening back down as he bit a nipple, freeing her from the straps of his cloak.

His name was whined in want and he crawled the rest of the way back up, greeted with a flickering bite to his bottom lip, his face caught between her hands. She wrecked him, drinking greedily from his mouth, hips grinding, cock slipping in the mess of wet as she slowed down his mind, fingernails imbedded in his arse.

With a leg hooked over his and a surprising show of strength, he was rolled over, Daenerys looming over him with pleasure blurred eyes. With a command of _stay,_ he did as his Queen ordered, heart pounding so loud she surely could hear it as she mouthed down his body. Nothing was spared in her exploration, teeth setting into the side of his neck viciously, a burst of heat accompanying it before she kissed the spot in apology, making him want to beg her for more marks and brands and rough treatment.

She was gentle with his scars, the love he felt for her almost drowning him in a wave as she fussed over them, his composure regaining when she nipped his abdomen. His cock was straining towards her, breast dragging lightly over his thighs as she kept moving south, a whoosh of disbelief in his ears as he realized where she was headed.

The smile she gave him was predatory, a low and unintelligible noise rumbling in his throat, hands spasming as she fisted his cock, caught his eye and swallowed him down in one greedy gulp. His wits scattered, mind emptying with the overwhelming pleasure, everything drawing tight and focusing on how she was ruining him. The warm silk of her mouth, the coarse fur from his cloak under his hand, a groan pulled out of his chest as she sucked down again, bright lights flashing behind his eyelids. A hand scooped up his stones, squeezing gently and with a curse his hips snapped up, hitting the back of her throat while she faltered and recovered. He petted clumsily at her hair, wanting to draw her away from the wonderful torture, the dark part of himself wanting to shove her down farther while he fucked that giving mouth. The suction was causing heat to flash over him, control racing away as she bobbed in a steady rhythm.

It was too much, his heart rate out of control, fingers tangled in her hair just as the need to fill her mouth, to bring her back up and worship her tangled inside of him all while she continued to work the magic of her lips around his cock.

”C’mere, oh gods, please, please.”

He pulled her off, heaving air trying to starve off his release while she growled at the interruption, biting the flesh over his hip in retaliation. He was still gasping as she crawled over him, the greedy dragon coming to take what was hers and he was no match as she fisted him and lined herself up.

It was a long agonizing slide of pleasure as she sank down, white teeth biting into her bottom lip as she fought the intrusion, Jon’s mind still too slow and dumb to do anything but watch as she wriggled and impaled herself, walls gripping tightly all the way down.

She was blowing out air in steady streams, blue eyes glassy, lips swollen, cheeks red when he finally grabbed roughly at her hips, needing her to _move,_ picking her up and letting her drop back down. A long groan came from that pretty mouth as she began to move in an arch backwards, hands planted on his thighs.

He was dissolving underneath her, pliant and needy as she rode him wildly, a steady stream of nonsense coming from her, molten cunt grabbing and greedy with her motions. A hand that had been braced on her hips slid to her front, seeking below silver curls until she bucked madly, collapsing forward as he found her nub. She was grinding down into him, hot breath against his clavicle before she broke against him, battering herself while he held on tightly, letting her jerk and shudder, feet planting on the bed to give aid to his thrusts.

When her body relaxed, he rolled them, forehead pressed to hers, bending her legs towards her chest. With a hard filthy snap of his hips she keened loudly, curling towards him as he let loose with his body’s need to fill her, be as deep as possible. She took it well, clawing his back to shreds as he sunk to the limit over and over with hard thrusts, losing every bit of himself to her as she cried his name. His release was sudden, swamping over him in a clench of muscles, eyes closed from the pressure and she took it all, holding him to her as he fell apart.

Twitching and jerking, completely spent, his seed spilling out from where they were joined, he collapsed against her, relaxing into her touch, no longer the mighty wolf, gentle as a dog as she petted and crooned. A tug on his hair had him lifting his head slowly, her abused mouth catching his neatly as she melted him even more.

The words of love were right on the tip of his tongue, ready to be passed to her, but he hesitated, not fully freed from the clutch of fear. Instead he gave it to her with slow sweeps of his tongue, gentle sucks on her lips, until she was sighing softly in his mouth.

When she finally seemed satisfied enough to let him go, he rolled off of her warm body to pull her close, a tangle of slick skin and messy hair. The hum of contentment tickled his skin, her fingers landing on his chest and resuming the trail they’d made on that long journey from Eastwatch.

“You’ll stay till morning?”

Her voice was sleepy, mind and body worn out and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, fingers wrapping in the strands of silver hair. “Aye, if you want me to.”

“Yes.” The word was an exhale against his chest, her nose nudged into his skin.

He let her drift off, the warm thrill of her wanting him there filling him up until he almost ached with the feeling of it. If she wanted him there, then he would stay, they’d figure the rest out as they navigated the wars to come.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you waiting patiently for the next chapter of A Wolf In The Sand, I promise I am working on it, albeit slowly as it is fighting being written. But I’ll get it to you soon.


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